


That Peach Shampoo—The Broom Closet Job

by crayonbreakygal



Series: The Closet Job [3]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Romance, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Eliot wanted to curse.  Why did he end up right here, right now, with her?





	That Peach Shampoo—The Broom Closet Job

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go again. I have not one, not two, but three long fics I am working on plus a few that I need to complete that are WIPs. Part three. I guess I could go on and pair others together.

That Peach Shampoo—The Broom Closet Job

Takes place season two.

“Did you just?”

“No, I didn’t. This is not my fault. Where did it say that this is my fault? I should be out there, assessing the situation.  But I’m in here, by no fault of my own.”

Shit, Eliot wanted to curse.  Why did he end up right here, right now, with her?  Stuck with her, in a room that was barely wide enough for the two of them to stand.  And something was itching his nose. Reaching up, he attempted to scratch it, but all he got was a fist full of hair. Soft hair that smelled of peaches, but hair nonetheless.

“Ow. You pulled my hair.”

“Then get it out of the way.”

Christ this was not how he envisioned how this job would go down.  Nate’s so-called full proof plan was now turning into the disaster of the year. Being stuck in a closet with a vixen, with her peach shampoo and her short leather skirt, in addition to the few drinks they had downed to fit in was turning this into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

“Where the fuck is Hardison?”

“What? Where am I?  I am trying to fix the damn mess y’all got yourselves into, Eliot.”

“Tara’s fault,” Eliot corrected the hacker.

“What?  My fault?”

“Both of you. Enough.  Parker?  Your status?”

Nate finally stepped in. Eliot had wondered where the man had gone.

“Give me ten more minutes. Maybe less if all of you would stop talking.”

“Parker, just get it done. The rest of you, sit tight.”

Eliot growled, making Tara jump just a little bit.

“Down, boy.”

“Did you just tell me to stand down?”

“No, I just told you to stop being an ass.”

Being an ass? Who was the one that suggested the method of infiltration in the first place?  It was all on her and he would remind her of it after they got out of this damn closet.  He’d been held in crummier situations, worse prison cells, even horrible torture chambers. At least they didn’t smell like peaches.

“What is your problem?” Tara finally asked.

Eliot moved his hand to brush his hair away from his face yet again. It was starting to heat up in such a small space with two bodies and no air circulation.

“Just want to get the hell out of here.”

“What? You need to punch something?”

“Something like that. I hate being out of commission.”

“It’ll be done soon enough.  You know what? You’re like a freakin’ sauna. How do you generate so much heat?”

Eliot was only a few inches from Tara. It was dark in the closet, but not so dark that he couldn’t see her face.  A bit of light leaked in from down below the closed door in addition to a sliver of light on one side.  He realized that Nate told her to dress like this for the job, but damn couldn’t she have worn something a little less revealing?  He would not, under any circumstances, touch her.  It was unprofessional and probably not desired on her part. 

“Why do you smell like peaches?” Eliot blurted out.

“I, well, that was all the shampoo I had left.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  So?”

Eliot shifted ever so slightly, bumping into her arm as he did.  Or what he thought was her arm.

“Sorry.  Too close quarters.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me.  Are you always that hot? I mean temperature wise.  I mean, you’re hot. Nice to look at, if you know, the way the mark’s wife was looking at you was any indication.”

Hence the need to get slightly inebriated.  With Tara. To make it look like they were having a good time. Together. To throw off the mark’s wife. Who was handsy from day one.

“Good call on sticking together.”

“She get handsy again?”

“She couldn’t keep her damn hands to herself.”

Tara snorted in reply.

“Well, I mean, yeah,” Tara answered hesitantly.  “Glad to help.”

Eliot could smell the whiskey that Tara had been drinking, mixed with the peaches and something else entirely.

“Listen, if I came off too strongly out there, I’m sorry.  I thought throwing off her scent was better than having her pawing you.”

Oh, that’s what he was smelling.  The wife’s perfume. She had on way too much of the stuff and had brushed up against Eliot too many times before Tara had saved his sorry ass.

“Thank you.”

“She didn’t even ask. That’s just so rude.”

“I’m used to it,” Eliot said to her.

“Used to it?  You’re right.  I think I’ve broken more fingers in my time from too many guys trying to manhandle me.”

Eliot could just imagine Tara not taking any crap off anyone who touched her when she didn’t want to be touched.

“People think that the hair, you know. They want to touch it.”

Eliot thought back to the wife touching his hair, then giving his ass a squeeze.

“Among other things,” Tara commented as she shifted position again. “How long is this going to take?”

Eliot knew Parker’s technique. She’d get it done efficiently and as quickly as she could.  Coming to save them was second on the list.

“Nate could have sent in Hardison.”

“Nope,” Eliot dragged out. “Long cons are not in his wheelhouse.”

“I heard that.”

“Get busy, Hardison and stop listening in on our conversation.”

Eliot heard the click of Hardison turning off his comm for the time being. Nate was still listening, but probably busy with making sure that Parker was alright and safe since Eliot was literally stuck in a closet. He’d never live this one down.

“He wouldn’t have shut up. I might have had to kill him.”

Eliot laughed a little, knowing that Hardison going on a rant could drive a person insane in a matter of minutes.

“Yeah, he does that to you.”

“I need to take these shoes off if we’re going to stand here not moving.”

“Oh, alright.”

Tara bent down to unbuckle the back of her shoe, holding onto Eliot’s bicep as she did.  When she wore those shoes, she was just a bit taller than he was. He had no idea how she walked in those things. The heels must have been four inches, which elongated her legs, showing off the calf muscles she had.  So, he had looked. Every other man in the vicinity had. Even Parker had.  Nate got that wide-eyed stare that he sometimes used with Sophie but turned abruptly as he saw the ensemble Tara had chosen.  Parker had taken her hand and placed it in front of Hardison’s eyes so that he couldn’t see what Tara had worn.  Was she jealous? Parker jealous?  When did that start occurring? 

“Why’d you wear those heels?” Eliot asked as Tara worked on the second shoe.

“Sizing up the competition.  I thought that the mark would gravitate to me, which I was totally correct.  Pissed off the wife too. No reason to not have a little fun.”

Short skirt, high heels, tight shirt, a bit of cleavage. Damn peach shampoo.  Tara hadn’t let go of his bicep even though she was done with the shoes.

“Listen, thanks for the save in there. Maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant idea to hide out in here not knowing about the locks, but it got us away from the pawing hands.”

Tara was way too close to him now, hand still in place, heating him up even more. He could feel a bit of sweat now trickling down his back.

“Um, it’s really hot in here.”  Eliot was never one to complain on a job unless it was to tweak Hardison.

“Here. Can I?”

Eliot had noticed that Tara’s hands were much cooler than his body was.  The coolness of her hand on the side of his neck made him sigh out loud. Her other hand gently touched the side of his face.

“Better?” Tara asked.

“Yeah.”

Her lips were cool on his forehead, brushing up against it until she pulled away.

“Thanks,” she told him.  He was itching to reciprocate.  “It’s ok.”

“What’s ok?” Eliot asked.

That peach shampoo invaded his senses as she slowly inched toward him, lips soft and inviting against his. 

“Shh,” Tara urged him, not wanting the rest of them to hear what they were doing.

Yanking his earpiece out, he felt her hand in his as she placed her earpiece with his.  No sense in letting the other three hear what was going to happen. The moan that Tara let out as he started to kiss her in earnest was worth not being in contact with his team.  Her tongue snaked out to meet his as she pressed her body into his, hands digging into his scalp. Was it the alcohol or the close proximity?  It didn’t matter. Her skin was as smooth as silk as he worked his hand underneath her shirt.

Eliot knew that at some point, Parker was going to open that door, but he really didn’t care.  Tara was offering. What else could he do?

“Ow. Dammit,” Eliot heard off in the distance. “Which door? Eliot? Eliot?”

Tara’s scent had invaded his brain, turning off almost all things dangerous, until he heard Parker start to work her magic on the door and get them out of there.  Before she could catch him and Tara making out, he abruptly turned Tara around just before Parker had picked the lock. Tara’s hair was a mess and so was his. But at least she didn’t catch them kissing.  Tara had worked the earpiece back in quickly as Parker stared at the both of them, Hardison coming up from behind. 

As soon as Eliot replaced his, all he heard was Nate swearing up a storm.

“Tara dropped her comm. Sorry,” he explained as he looked at both Parker and Hardison pointedly.

Parker just smiled back and gave him a thumbs up while Hardison rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

“Mr. and Ms. I’m Stuck in a Closet and Not Making Out are secure Nate.”

“Dammit, Hardison,” Eliot chastised the younger man.

“Get the hell out of there. Now,” Nate told all of them.

“Eliot, you can let go of me now,” Tara urged before walking out of the closet.

Eliot hadn’t realized that his hand was still touching Tara, underneath her shirt, almost touching a very intimate place. As quickly as he could, he did as he was told to do.

“He’s really hot, isn’t he?” Parker commented as they all walked out of the back of the building.

“What do you mean he’s really hot? What am I? Chopped liver?” Hardison complained.

“No, you dork. Eliot’s temperature runs really hot.  Mind, gutter, Hardison.”

“Oh. Wait? How do you know that?” Hardison asked as he pulled open the van’s sliding door.

 


End file.
